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It 

Socrates. 



tEfje &pologg antr Crtto of Pato. 



— «*« — 

is i 

No.. /«f« 




BOSTON: 

Eoicrts 33rot&ere. 

1882. 



■' iL 



3 3^ 
.A5J7 



I THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 
WASHINGTON 



Copyright, 1882, 
By Roberts Brothers. 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 






•s 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction i 

Apology 21 

Crito 73 



' 



• 



^Pntrofcucttott* 



THE famous Apology of Socrates is here 
given, together with Crito, in Profes- 
sor Jowett's translation of Plato (the revised 
edition). The Pil^do will soon follow in a 
companion volume. They are unabridged, 
and give the story of his trial, imprisonment, 
and death. In the following account of the 
life of Socrates I am largely indebted to an 
Introductory Essay to a translation of these 
Dialogues by Dean Church. 

Socrates was born at Athens about the 
year 469 b. c. His father, Sophroniscus, was 
a sculptor, and Socrates himself practised the 
same art during his youth and early middle 
life. His mother, Phaenarete, was a midwife. 
His parents, although poor, managed to give 
him the usual education. We know nothing 
definitely concerning him before the year 432 
b. c, when he served as a hoplite, or heavy- 



2 Intnrtmctwn. 

armed foot-soldier, at the siege of Potidaea. 
He distinguished himself for bravery and 
endurance at this time, and also at the battle 
of Delium, 424 b. a, and at the battle of 
Amphipolis, 422 B.C. 

Alcibiades describes his behavior when he 
was with him during the expedition to Poti- 
daea. He says : l — 

"There we messed together, and I had 
the opportunity of observing his extraordi- 
nary power of sustaining fatigue, and going 
without food when our supplies were inter- 
cepted at any place, as will happen with an 
army. In the faculty of endurance he was 
superior not only to me, but to everybody ; 
there was no one to be compared to him. 
Yet at a festival he was the only person who 
had any real powers of enjoyment, and though 
not willing to drink, he could, if compelled, 
beat us all at that ; and the most wonderful 
thing of all was that no human being had ever 
seen Socrates drunk. His endurance of cold 
was also surprising. There was a severe frost, 
for the winter in that region was really tre- 
mendous, and everybody else either remained 
indoors, or, if they went out, had on no end 
1 In the Symposium ; Jowett's translation. 



Entrotmcttan. 3 

of clothing, and were well shod, and had their 
feet swathed in felts and fleeces. In the midst 
of this Socrates, with his bare feet on the ice, 
and in his ordinary dress, marched better than 
any of the other soldiers who had their shoes 
on, and they looked daggers at him because 
he seemed to despise them. 

" One morning he was thinking about some- 
thing which he could not resolve ; and he would 
not give up, but continued thinking from early 
dawn until noon. There he stood fixed in 
thought ; and at noon attention was drawn to 
him, and the rumor ran through the wonder- 
ing crowd that Socrates had been standing 
and thinking about something ever since the 
break of day. At last, in the evening after 
supper, some Ionians out of curiosity (I should 
explain that this was not in winter but in sum- 
mer) brought out their mats and slept in the 
open air, that they might watch him, and see 
whether he would stand all night. There he 
stood all night as well as all day, and the fol- 
lowing morning ; and with the return of light 
he offered up a prayer to the sun, and went 
his way. 

" I will also tell you, if you please, — 
and indeed I am bound to tell, — of his 



4 Entrotmctfort, 

courage in battle ; for who but he saved my 
life ? Now this was the engagement in which 
I received the prize of valor; for I was 
wounded, and he would not leave me, but he 
rescued me and my arms ; and he ought to 
have received the prize of valor, which the 
generals wanted to confer on me partly on 
account of my rank, and I told them so (this 
Socrates will not impeach or deny) ; but he 
was more eager than the generals that I, and 
not he, should have the prize. 

" There was another occasion on which he 
was very noticeable : this was in the flight of 
the army after the battle of Delium ; and I 
had a better opportunity of seeing him than 
at Potidaea, as I was myself on horseback, and 
therefore comparatively out of danger. He 
and Laches were retreating, as the troops were 
in flight, and I met them and told them not 
to be discouraged, and promised to remain 
with them. And there you might see him, 
Aristophanes, as you describe, just as he is "in 
the streets of Athens, stalking like a pelican, 
and rolling his eyes, calmly contemplating 
enemies as well as friends, and making very 
intelligible to anybody, even from a distance, 
that whoever attacks him will be likely to 



Introduction, 5 

meet with a stout resistance. And in this 
way he and his companion escaped, — for 
these are the sort of persons who are never 
touched in war ; they only pursue those who 
are running away headlong. I particularly 
observed how superior he was to Laches in 
presence of mind. 

" Many are the wonders of Socrates which 
I might narrate in his praise. Most of his 
ways might perhaps be paralleled in others, 
but the most astonishing thing of all is his 
absolute unlikeness to any human being that 
is or ever has been. You may imagine Bra- 
sidas and others to have been like Achilles ; 
or you may imagine Nestor and Antenor to 
have been like Pericles ; and the same may 
be said of other famous men : but of this 
strange being you will never be able to find 
any likeness, however remote, either among 
men who now are or who ever have been, 
except that which I have already suggested of 
Silenus and the satyrs ; l and this is an alle- 
gory not only of himself, but also of his words. 
For, although I forgot to mention this before, 
his words are ridiculous when you first hear 
them \ he clothes himself in language that is 
1 See p. 12. 



6 Entrotiucttatt. 

as the skin of the wanton satyr : for his talk 
is of pack-asses and smiths and cobblers and 
curriers ; and he is always repeating the same 
things in the same words, so that an ignorant 
man who did not know him might feel dis- 
posed to laugh at him. But he who pierces 
the mask and sees what is within will find that 
they are the only words which have a mean- 
ing in them, and also the most divine, abound- 
ing in fair examples of virtue, and of the 
largest discourse, or rather extending to the 
whole duty of a good and honorable man." 

His courage as a senator was even more 
remarkable than his courage as a soldier. 

" In the year 406 b. c, the Athenian fleet 
defeated the Lacedaemonians at the battle of 
Arginusaa. After the battle the Athenian 
commanders neglected to recover the bodies 
of the dead and to save the living from their 
own disabled triremes. They said that they 
had ordered certain inferior officers to per- 
form the duty, and that a storm had come on 
which had rendered the performance impos- 
sible. So the living were left to perish, and 
the bodies of the dead were never recovered. 
The Athenians, on receiving this news, were 
excessively angered. The due performance 



Entratmrtt0n. 7 

of funeral rites was a sacred duty with the 
Greeks, and many were indignant that their 
friends and relatives had been left to drown. 
There was a debate in the i\ssembly on the 
whole question, in which the commanders 
spoke, and it was resolved that the Senate 
should decide in what mode they should be 
tried. The Senate resolved by a majority 
that the Athenian people, having heard the 
accusation and the defence, should proceed 
to vote for the condemnation or acquittal 
of the eight commanders collectively, — an 
illegal proposal, because there was a law at 
Athens that on all trials a separate verdict 
should be found for each party accused. 

" Socrates at that time was a member of the 
Senate, the only public office that he ever 
held. The Senate consisted of fifty men 
elected by lot from each of the ten tribes. 
Each tribe held the Prytany, or presidency, for 
thirty-five days at a time, and ten out of the 
fifty were presidents every seven days in suc- 
cession. One of the ten held the supreme 
post each day, and for one day only. He 
was called Epistates ; he laid all business 
before the Assembly ; in short, he presided. 

" On the day when it was proposed to take 



8 Entrotmctton, 

a collective verdict on the eight commanders, 
Socrates happened to be Epistates. The 
proposal was illegal, though the fury of the 
people made it a very popular one. Some 
of the presidents refused to put such a ques- 
tion to the Assembly ; but they were silenced 
by threats, and subsided. Socrates alone re- 
fused to submit or to put a question which he 
knew to be illegal. Threats of suspension and 
arrest, the clamor of a furious populace, the 
fear of death or imprisonment could not move 
him. ' I thought it my duty to face the danger 
out in the cause of law and justice, and not to 
be an accomplice in your unjust proposals.' 
But his authority lasted only for a day : a more 
pliant Epistates succeeded, and the command- 
ers were condemned and executed. 

" Two years later Socrates again showed 
by his conduct that he was ready to endure 
anything rather than do wrong. In 404 b. c. 
Athens was captured by the Lacedaemonians, 
and the long walls were thrown down. The 
great Athenian democracy was destroyed, and 
an oligarchy of Thirty set up in its place by 
Critias and others, with the help of the Spar- 
tan general, Lysander. The rule of the Thirty 
lasted for about a year (till the spring of 403 



Entrotiuctum, 9 

B.C.), and then the democracy was restored. 
The reign of Critias and his friends was a 
kind of reign of terror. Political opponents 
were murdered of course. So were respect- 
able men, and wealthy men whose riches were 
desirable. All kinds of men were used as 
assassins, for the tyrants wished to implicate 
as many persons as possible in their crimes. 
With that design they sent for Socrates and four 
others to the Rotunda, — a building where the 
Prytanes took their meals, — and ordered them 
to bring over Leon, a native of Salamis, from 
that island to Athens, that they might kill him. 
To disobey the order probably meant death ; 
and so reasoned the other four, who went over 
to Salamis and brought Leon across. Socrates 
disregarded the danger, and went quietly home. 
1 1 showed not by words, but by actions that 
I did not care a straw about death ; but that 
I did care very much about doing nothing 
wTong or wicked.' Fortunately he was saved 
by the destruction of the oligarchy." J 

The date of his marriage to Xanthippe, whose 

violent temper has made her name a synonym 

for shrew, is unknown. She bore him three 

sons, named Lamprocles, Sophroniscus, and 

1 F. J. Church. 



io Enturtiuctton. 

Menexenus. He gave a playful explanation 
of his choice, by remarking that " Those who 
wish to become skilled in horsemanship select 
the most spirited horses ; after being able to 
bridle those, they believe they can bridle all 
others. Now as it is my wish to live and con- 
verse with men, I married this woman, being 
firmly convinced that in case I should be 
able to endure her, I should be able to endure 
all others." 

" At what time Socrates relinquished his pro- 
fession as a statuary we do not know," says Mr. 
Grote ; " but it is certain that all the mid- 
dle and later part of his life, at least, was de- 
voted exclusively to the self-imposed task of 
teaching, excluding all other business, public or 
private, and to the neglect of all means of for- 
tune. Early in the morning he frequented the 
public walks, the gymnasia for bodily training, 
and the schools where youths were receiving 
instruction. He was to be seen in the market- 
place at the hour when it was most crowded, 
among the booths and tables where goods were 
exposed for sale. His whole day was usually 
spent in this manner. He talked with any 
one, young or old, rich or poor, who sought to 
address him, and in the hearing of all who 



Entrotutcttan. 



ii 



chose to stand by ; not only he never either 
asked or received any reward, but he made no 
distinction of persons, never withheld his con- 
versation from any one, and talked upon the 
same general topics to all. He conversed 
with politicians, sophists, military men, artisans, 
ambitious or studious youths, etc. Nothing 
could be more public, perpetual, and indis- 
criminate as to persons than his conversation. 
But as it was engaging, curious, and instruc- 
tive to hear, certain persons made it their 
habit to attend him in public as companions 
and listeners. These men, a fluctuating body, 
were commonly known as his disciples or 
scholars ; though neither he nor his. personal 
friends ever employed the terms teacher and 
disciple to describe the relation between them. 
Many of them came, attracted by his reputa- 
tion, during the later years of his life, from 
other Grecian cities, Megara, Thebes, Elis, 
Cyrene, etc." 

Alcibiades thus describes his eloquence : * 
" I shall praise Socrates in a figure which will 
appear to him to be a caricature, and yet I do 
not mean to laugh at him, but only to speak 
the truth. I say, then, that he is exactly like 
1 In the Symposium. 



12 SntrcitiucttML 

the masks of Silenus which may be seen 
sitting in the statuaries' shops, having pipes 
and flutes in their mouths ; and they are made 
to open in the middle, and there are images 
of gods inside them. I say also that he is like 
Marsyas the satyr. You will not deny, Socra- 
tes, that your face is like that of a satyr. Aye, 
and there is a resemblance in other points 
too. For example, you are a bully : that I 
am in a position to prove by the evidence of 
witnesses, if you will not confess. And are 
you not a flute-player ? That you are, and a 
far more wonderful performer than Marsyas. 
For he, indeed, with instruments charmed the 
souls of men by the power of his breath, as 
the performers of his music do still ; for the 
melodies of Olympus are derived from the 
teaching of Marsyas, and these, whether they 
are played by a great master or by a miserable 
flute-girl, have a power which no others have : 
they alone possess the soul, and reveal the 
wants of those who have need of gods and 
mysteries, because they are inspired. But 
you produce the same effect with the voice 
only, and do not require the flute : that is the 
difference between you and him. When we 
hear any other speaker, even a very good one, 



Entrotmctton. 13 

his words produce absolutely no effect upon 
us in comparison, whereas the very fragments 
of you and your words, even at second-hand, 
and however imperfectly repeated, amaze and 
possess the souls of every man, woman, and 
child who comes within hearing of them \ and 
if I were not afraid that you would think me 
drunk, I would have sworn as well as spoken 
to the influence which they have always had 
and still have over me. For my heart leaps 
within me more than that of any Corybantian 
reveller, and my eyes rain tears when I hear 
them. And I observe that many others are 
affected in the same way. I have heard 
Pericles and other great orators, but though I 
thought that they spoke well, I never had any 
similar feeling ; my soul was not stirred by 
them, nor was I angry at the thought of my 
own slavish state. But this Marsyas has often 
brought me to such a pass that I have felt as 
if I could hardly endure the life which I am 
leading (this, Socrates, you admit) ; and I am 
conscious that if I did not shut my ears against 
him, and fly from the voice of the siren, he 
would detain me until I grew old sitting at his 
feet. For he makes me confess that I ought 
not to live as I do, neglecting the wants of 



14 JEntrolmctum. 

my own soul, and busying myself with the 
concerns of the Athenians, therefore I hold 
my ears and tear myself away from him. And 
he is the only person who ever made me 
ashamed, — which you might think not to be 
in my nature, — and there is no one else who 
does the same. For I know that I cannot 
answer him, or say that I ought not to do as 
he bids ; but when I leave his presence the 
love of popularity gets the better of me. And 
therefore I run away and fly from him, and 
when I see him I am ashamed of what I have 
confessed to him. And many a time I wish 
that he were dead, and yet I know that I should 
be much more sorry than glad, if he were to 
die : so that I am at my wits' end." 

Dean Church says : — " We now come to 
the trial and the defence of Socrates. He 
was indicted for impiety, and for corrupting 
young men, before a court of probably five 
hundred and one dicasts or judges. Multiply 
an English jury by about forty and take away 
the presiding judge, and we have such a court 
as that which tried Socrates : only we must 
add that the Athenian dicasts were a very 
animated audience, and were wont to express 
openly their pleasure or displeasure with what 



Entnitiuctiflm 15 

was said. Socrates is often obliged to request 
them not to interrupt him ; for the request is 
addressed to them, not to the general audience. 
The indictment was preferred by a young poet 
named Meletus, backed up by Lycon, a rheto- 
rician of whom nothing more is known, and 
the real mover in the matter, Anytus. He 
was a leather-seller by trade, and he had ac- 
quired great influence and reputation with the 
people by his zeal and sufferings in the cause 
of democracy at the time of the oligarchy of 
the Thirty." 

Grote says that Socrates, observing consid- 
erable intellectual promise in the son of Any- 
tus, endeavored to dissuade the father from 
bringing him up to his own trade. As he had 
just sustained great loss of property, he was 
the more anxious that his son should labor to 
restore the family fortunes, and he naturally 
disliked interference with his plans. He also 
seems to have been an enemy of all teaching 
which went beyond the narrowest practicality. 
All three accusers belonged to classes which 
Socrates had irritated and offended. 

" Some few words are necessary to explain 
the procedure at the trial. The time assigned 
to it was divided into three equal lengths. In 



1 6 Entrcfouctfon. 

the first the accusers — in the present instance 
all three of them — made their speeches ; but 
with this we are not concerned. x The second 
was occupied by the speech in defence. After 
that, the judges voted, and found the accused 
guilty or not guilty. The third length opened 
with the speech of the prosecutor advocating 
the penalty which he proposed, — in this in- 
stance death. The accused was at liberty to 
propose a lighter penalty, and he would then 
make a second speech in support of his pro- 
posal ; he might at the same time appeal to the 
feelings of the court by bringing forward his 
wife and children. Then the judges would 
. have to decide between the two penalties pro- 
posed to them, of which they had to select one. 
If they voted for death, the condemned man 
was led away to prison by the officers of . the 
Eleven. The end of the Apology is not part 
of the trial, and we cannot be certain that 
Socrates was actually allowed to make such a 
farewell address. It must be at least doubtful 
whether those who had just condemned a man 
to death that they might be no longer made to 
give an account of their lives, would endure to 
hear him denouncing judgment against them 
for their sin, and prophesying the punishment 



Entrotmctton. 1 7 

which awaited them. Finally, we must re- 
member that at certain points of his defence, 
properly so called, Socrates must be supposed 
to call witnesses to prove his statements." x 

Professor Jowett says : — 

" In what relation the Apology of Plato 
stands to the real defence of Socrates there 
are no means of determining. . . . But in 
the main it must be regarded as the ideal 
of Socrates, according to Plato's conception 
of him, appearing in the greatest and most 
public scene of his life, and in the height 
of his triumph, when he is weakest, and yet 
his mastery over mankind is greatest, and his 
habitual irony acquires a new meaning and 
a sort of tragic pathos in the face of death. 
The facts of his life are summed up, and the 
features of his character are brought out as 
if by accident in the course of the defence. 
The conversational manner, the seeming want 
of arrangement, the ironical simplicity, are 
found to result in a perfect work of art, which 
is the portrait of Socrates. 

" Yet some of the topics may have been ac- 
tually used by Socrates ; and the recollection 

1 F. J. Church. 
2 



x 8 JEntartmrtum. 

of his very words may have rung in the ears 
of his disciple." 

Socrates was not put to death immediately, 
but remained in prison in chains about thirty 
days. One of his friends, Crito, comes to him 
the eve of the day when he is to die, to pro- 
pose escape. It can be easily arranged, and 
he can be carried away in safety to another 
land, to end his days in peace. Socrates re- 
fuses to consent to such a plan, and the Dia- 
logue of Crito contains his arguments against 
his friend. 

In the Phaedo the story of Socrates' death 
is told to Echecrates of Phlius, by Phaedo, a 
favorite disciple, who had continued with his 
master to the end. He relates the long con- 
versation of Socrates with his friends on the 
subject of immortality, and gives an account 
of his last hours, his calmness, his playfulness, 
and his quiet acceptance of the poison. 

Xenophon says i 1 " Of those who knew 
what sort of man Socrates was, such as were 
lovers of virtue continue to regret him above 
all other men, even to the present day, as 
having contributed in the highest degree to 
their advancement in goodness. To me, 
1 Memorabilia. 



Entrotiuctiotu 1 9 

being such as I have described him, — so 
pious that he did nothing without the sanc- 
tion of the gods ; so just that he wronged 
no man even in the most trifling affair, but 
was of service, in the most important mat- 
ters, to those who enjoyed his society ; so 
temperate that he never preferred pleasure 
to virtue ; so wise that he never erred in dis- 
tinguishing better from worse, needing no 
counsel from others, but being sufficient in 
himself to discriminate between them ; so 
able to explain and settle such questions by 
argument; and so capable of discerning the 
character of others, of confuting those who 
were in error, and of exhorting them to vir- 
tue and honor, — he seemed to be such as the 
best and happiest of men would be. But if 
any one disapproves of my opinion, let him 
compare the conduct of others with that of 
Socrates, and determine accordingly." 

M. W. T. 



3CpoIogp* 



HOW you, O Athenians, have been af- 
fected by my accusers, I cannot tell ; 
but I know that they almost made me for- 
get myself, so persuasively did they speak. 
And yet they have hardly uttered a word of 
truth. But many as their falsehoods were, 
there was one of them which quite amazed 
me ; I mean when they told you that you 
should be upon your guard, and not allow your- 
selves to be deceived by my eloquence. To 
use such language, when they were sure to be 
detected as soon as I opened my lips and dis- 
played my deficiency, did certainly appear 
most shameless, — unless by the force of elo- 
quence they mean the force of truth ; for if 
this is their meaning, I admit that I am elo- 
quent. But in how different a way from theirs ! 
Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered 
a word, or not more than a word, of truth ; 



22 Spologg. 

but you shall hear from me the whole truth ; 
not, however, delivered after their manner in 
a set oration duly ornamented with words and 
phrases. No, by heaven ! but I shall use the 
w r ords and arguments which occur to me at 
the moment^ for I am certain that I am right 
in this, and that at my time of life I ought 
not to be appearing before you, O men of 
Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator, 
— let no one expect it of me. And I must 
beg of you to grant me a favor. If you hear 
me using the same words in my defence which 
I have been in the habit of using, and which 
most of you may have heard in the Agora, and 
at the tables of the money-changers, or any- 
where else, I would ask you not to be surprised, 
and not to interrupt me on this account. For 
I am more than seventy years of age, and ap- 
pearing now for the first time in a court of 
law, I am quite a stranger to the language 
which is used here ; and therefore I would 
have you regard me as if I were really a 
stranger, whom you would excuse if he spoke 
in his native tongue, and after the fashion of 
his country. Am I making an unfair request 
of you ? Never mind the manner, which may 
or may not be good ; but think only of the 



3pologn. 23 

justice of my cause, and give heed to that : 
let the judge decide justly and the speaker 
speak truly. 

And first, I have to reply to the older charges 
and to my first accusers, and then I will go 
on to the later ones. For of old I have had 
many accusers, who have accused me falsely 
to you during many years ; and I am more 
afraid of them than of Anytus and his asso- 
ciates, who are dangerous too, in their own 
way. But far more dangerous are the others, 
who began when you were children, and took 
possession of your minds with their falsehoods, 
telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who specu- 
lated about the heaven above, and searched 
into the earth beneath, and made the worse 
appear the better cause. The disseminators 
of this tale are the accusers whom I dread ; 
for their hearers are apt to fancy that such 
inquirers do not believe in the existence of 
the gods. And they are many, and their 
charges against me are of ancient date, and 
they made them in days when you were im- 
pressible, — in childhood, or perhaps in youth, 
— and the cause when heard went by default, 
for there was none to answer. And, hardest 
of all, their names I do not know and can- 



24 SIpoIogg, 

not tell, unless in the chance case of a comic 
poet. But the main body of these slanderers, 
who from envy and malice have wrought upon 
you, — and there are some of them who are con- 
vinced themselves and impart their convictions 
to others, — all this class of men are most dif- 
ficult to deal with ; for I cannot have them up 
here and examine them, and therefore I must 
simply fight with shadows in my own defence, 
and examine when there is no one who an- 
swers. I will ask you, then, to assume with 
me, as I was saying, that my opponents are of 
two kinds, — one recent, the other ancient, — 
and I hope that you will see the propriety of 
my answering the latter first, for these accu- 
sations you heard long before the others, and 
much oftener. 

Well, then, I must make my defence, and 
endeavor to clear away in a short time a 
slander which has lasted a long time ; and I 
hope that I may succeed, and that my words 
may find favor with you, if this be well for 
you and me. But I know that to accomplish 
this is not easy. I quite see the nature of 
the task. Let the event be as God wills ; in 
obedience to the law I make my defence. 

I will begin at the beginning, and ask what 



3lpolorjg. 25 

the accusation is which has given rise to this 
slander of me, and which encouraged Meletus 
to proceed against me. Well, what do the 
slanderers say ? They shall be my prosecu- 
tors, and I will sum up their words in an affi- 
davit : " Socrates is an evil-doer and a curious 
person, who searches into things under the 
earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse 
appear the better cause ; and he teaches the 
aforesaid doctrines to others." Such is the 
accusation, and is just what you have your- 
selves seen in the comedy of Aristophanes, 
who has introduced a man, whom he calls 
Socrates, going about and saying that he can 
walk in the air, and talking a deal of nonsense 
concerning matters of which I do not pretend 
to know either much or little, — not that I 
mean to speak disparagingly of any one who 
is a student of natural philosophy. I should 
be very sorry if Meletus could lay that to my 
charge. But the simple truth is, O Athe- 
nians, that I have nothing to do with physical 
speculations. Very many of those here pres- 
ent are witnesses to the truth of this, and to 
them I appeal. Speak, then, you who have 
heard me, and tell your neighbors whether any 
of you have ever known me hold forth, in few 



26 ^palogg, 

words or in many, upon such matters. . . . 
You hear their answer ; and from what they 
say, of this part of the charge you will be able 
to judge of the truth of the rest. 

As little foundation is there for the report 
that I am a teacher, and take money : that is 
no more true than the other. Although, if a 
man were really able to instruct mankind, to 
take money for giving instruction would, in 
my opinion, be honorable. There is Gorgias 
of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hip- 
pias of Elis, who go the round of the cities, 
and are able to persuade the young men to 
leave their own citizens, by whom they might 
be taught for nothing, and come to them, 
whom they not only pay, but are thankful if 
they may be allowed to pay them. 

There is at this time a Parian philosopher 
residing in Athens, of whom I have heard ; 
and I came to hear of him in this way : I met 
a man who has spent a world of money on 
the Sophists, Callias, the son of Hipponicus, 
and knowing that he had sons, I asked him : 
Callias, I said, if your two sons were foals or 
calves, there would be no difficulty in finding 
some one to put over them ; we should hire 
a trainer of horses, or a farmer, probably, who 



^Ipologu. 27 

would improve and perfect them in their own 
proper virtue and excellence ; but as they are 
human beings, whom are you thinking of pla- 
cing over them? Is there any one who un- 
derstands human and political virtue? You 
must have thought about the matter, for you 
have sons; is there any one? " There is," 
a he said. Who is he ? said I : and of what 
country ? and what does he charge ? " Evenus 
the Parian," he replied ; " he is the man, and 
his charge is five minae !" Happy is Evenus, 
I said to myself, if he really has this wisdom 
and teaches at such a modest charge. Had 
I the same, I should have been very proud 
and satisfied \ but the truth is that I have no 
knowledge of the kind. 

I dare say, Athenians, that some one among 
you will reply, " Yes, Socrates, but what is the 
origin of these accusations which are brought 
against you ? — there must have been some- 
thing strange which you have been doing. All 
this rumor and talk about you would never 
have arisen if you had been like other men. 
Tell us, then, what is the cause of them, for 
we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." 
Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I 
will endeavor to explain to you the origin of 



28 ^polagg. 

this name of "wise," and of my evil fame. 
Please to attend, then. And although some 
of you may think that I am joking, I declare 
that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of 
Athens, this reputation of mine has come of 
a certain sort of wisdom which I possess. If 
you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, 
such wisdom as is attainable by man, for to 
that extent I am inclined to believe that I am 
wise ; whereas the persons of whom I was 
speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I 
may fail to describe, because I have it not 
myself; and he who says that I have, speaks, 
falsely, and is taking away my character. And 
here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not 
to interrupt me, even if 1 seem to say some- 
thing extravagant. For the word which I will 
speak is not mine. I will refer you to a wit- 
ness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you 
about my wisdom, — whether I have any, and 
of what sort, — and that witness shall be the 
God of Delphi. You must have known Chaere- 
phon ; he was early a friend of mine, and also 
a friend of yours, for he shared in the exile 
of the people, and returned with you. Well, 
Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetu- 
ous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi 



and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether, 
— as I was saying, I must beg you not to 
interrupt, — he asked the oracle to tell him 
whether there was any one wiser than I was, 
and the Pythian prophetess answered that 
there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead 
himself, but his brother, who is in court, will 
confirm the truth of what I am saying. 

Why do I mention this? "Because I am 
going to explain to you why I have such an 
evil name. When I heard the answer, I said 
to myself, " What can the God mean ? and 
what is the interpretation of his riddle ? for I 
know that I have no wisdom, small or great. 
What, then, can he mean when he says that 
I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a 
god, and cannot lie • that would be against his 
nature." 

After long consideration, I at last thought 
of a method of trying the question. I reflected 
that if I could only hnd a man wiser than 
myself, then I might go to the God with a 
refutation in my hand. I should say to him, 
" Here is a man who is wiser than I am ; 
but you said that I was the wisest ! " Ac- 
cordingly I went to one who had the repu- 
tation of wisdom, and observed him, — his 



3° apologg- 

name I need not mention ; he was a politi- 
cian whom I selected for examination, and the 
result was as follows : — 

When I began to talk with him, I could 
not help thinking that he was not really wise, 
although he was thought wise by many, and 
wiser still by himself; and thereupon I tried 
to explain to him that he thought himself 
wise, but was not really wise ; and the conse- 
quence was that he hated me, and his enmity 
was shared by several who were present and 
heard me. So I left him, saying to myself 
as I went away : Well, although I do not sup- 
pose that either of us knows anything really 
beautiful and good, I am better off than he 
is, — for he knows nothing and thinks that he 
knows ; I neither know nor think that I know. 
In this latter particular, then, I seem to have 
slightly the advantage of him. Then I went 
to another, who had still higher philosophical 
pretensions, and my conclusion was exactly 
the same. I made another enemy of him, 
and of many others besides him. 

Then I went to one man after another, be- 
ing not unconscious of the enmity which I 
provoked, and I lamented and feared this. 
But necessity was laid upon me : the word of 



StjjDlogtJ.. 3 1 

God, I thought, ought to be considered first. 
And I said to myself : Go I must to all who 
appear to know, and find out the meaning of 
the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, 
by the dog I swear ! — for I must tell you the 
truth — the result of my mission was just this : 
I found that the men most in repute were all 

. but the most foolish : and that some inferior 
men were really wiser and better. I will tell 
you the tale of my wanderings and of the 
"Herculean" labors, as I may call them, 
which I endured, only to find at last the 
oracle irrefutable. When I left the politicians 
I went to the poets, — tragic, dithyrambic, and 
all sorts. x\nd there, I said to myself, you 
will be instantly detected ; now you will find 

I out that you are more ignorant than they are. 
Accordingly, I took them some of the most 
elaborate passages in their own writings, and 
asked what was the meaning of them, — think- 
ing that they would teach me something. 
Will you believe me ? I am almost ashamed 
to confess the truth, but I must say that there 
is hardly a person present who would not 
have talked better about their poetry than 
they did themselves. Then I knew with- 
out going further that not by wisdom do 



32 Spologg* 

poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius 
and inspiration ; they are like diviners or 
soothsayers, who also say many fine things, 
but do not understand the meaning of them. 
And the poets appeared to me to be much in 
the same case ; and I further observed that 
upon the strength of their poetry they be- 
lieved themselves to be the wisest of men in 
other things in which they were not wise. So 
I departed, conceiving myself to be superior 
to them for the same reason that I was su- 
perior to the politicians. 

At last I went to the artisans, for I was 
conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may 
say, and I was sure that they knew many fine 
things ; and here I was not mistaken, for they 
did know many things of which I was igno- 
rant, and in this they were certainly wiser 
than I was. But I observed that even the 
good artisans fell into the same error as the 
poets : because they were good workmen they 
thought that they also knew all sorts of high 
matters, and this defect in them overshadowed 
their wisdom. Therefore I asked myself on 
behalf of the oracle whether I would like to 
be as I was, neither having their knowledge 
nor their ignorance, or like them in both; 



Spolflgg. $$ 

and I made answer to myself and the oracle 
that I was better off as I was. 

This investigation has led to my having 
many enemies of the worst and most danger- 
ous kind, and has given occasion also to many 
calumnies. And I am called wise, for my 
hearers always imagine that I myself possess 
the wisdom which I find wanting in others. 
But the truth is, O men of Athens, that God 
only is wise ; and in his answer he means to 
say that the wisdom of men is little or noth- 
ing. He is not speaking of Socrates, he is only 
using my name by way of illustration, as if he 
said, He, O men, is the wisest who, like 
Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth 
worth nothing. And so I go my way, obe- 
dient to the god, and make inquisition into 
the wisdom of any one, whether citizen or 
stranger, who appears to be wise \ and if he is 
not wise, then, in vindication of the oracle, I 
show him that he is not wise. And my occu- 
pation quite absorbs me, and I have no time 
to give either to any public matter of interest 
or to any concern of my own, but I am in 
utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the 
god. 

There is another thing : Young men of 

3 



34 ^pologg. 

the richer classes, who have not much to do, 
come about me of their own accord. They 
like to hear the pretenders examined, and they 
often imitate me and proceed to examine 
others. There are plenty of persons, as they 
soon enough discover, who think that they 
know something, but really know little or 
nothing; and then those who are examined 
by them, instead of being angry with them- 
selves, are angry with me. This confounded 
Socrates, they say ; this villanous misleader of 
youth ! And then if somebody asks them, 
Why, what evil does he practise or teach? 
they do not know, and cannot tell. But in 
order that they may not appear to be at a 
loss, they repeat the ready - made charges 
which are used against all philosophers, about 
teaching things up in the clouds and under 
the earth, and having no gods, and making 
the worse appear the better cause ; for they 
do not like to confess that their pretence of 
knowledge has been detected — which is the 
truth. And as they are numerous and ambi- 
tious and energetic, and are drawn up in 
battle array and have persuasive tongues, they 
have filled your ears with their loud and in- 
veterate calumnies. And this is the reason 



apology. 35 

Why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus 
and Lycon, have set upon me, — Meletus, who 
has a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets ; 
Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen \ Lycon, 
on behalf of the rhetorician. And, as I said at 
the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of 
such a mass of calumny all in a moment. 
And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and 
the whole truth : I have concealed nothing, I 
have dissembled nothing. And yet I know 
that my plainness of speech makes them hate 
me ; and what is their hatred but a proof that 
I am speaking the truth? This is the oc- 
casion and reason of their slander of me, 
as you will find out either in this or in any 
future inquiry. 

I have said enough in my defence against 
the first class of my accusers : I turn to the 
second class, who are headed by Meletus, 
that good and patriotic man, as he calls him- 
self. And now I will try to defend myself 
against them : these new accusers must also 
have their affidavit read. What do they say? 
Something of this sort : That Socrates is a 
doer of evil, and a corruptor of the youth ; 
he does not believe in the gods of the state, 
and has other new divinities of his own. That 



36 ^pologg. 

is the sort of charge ; and now let us examine 
the particular counts. He says that I am a 
doer of evil, who corrupt the youth ; but I say, 
O men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, 
and the evil is that he mixes up jest and 
earnest, and is too ready at bringing other 
men to trial from a pretended zeal and inter- 
est about matters in which he really never 
had the smallest interest. And the truth of 
this I will endeavor to prove. 

Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a 
question of you. You think a great deal 
about the improvement of youth? 

Yes, I do. 

Tell the judges, then, who is their improver ; 
for you must know, as you have taken the 
pains to discover their corruptor, and are cit- 
ing and accusing me before them. Speak, 
then, and tell the judges who their improver 
is. Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and 
have nothing to say. But is not this rather 
disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of 
what I was saying, that you have no interest 
in the matter? Speak up, friend, and tell us 
who their improver is. 

The laws. 

But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. 



apologg. 37 

I want to know who the person is who, in the 
first place, knows the laws. 

The judges, Socrates, who are present in 
court. 

What ! do you mean to say, Meletus, that 
they are able to instruct and improve youth ? 

Certainly they are. 

What ! all of them, or some only, and not 
others ? 

All of them. 

By the goddess Here, that is good news ! 
There are plenty of improvers, then. And 
what do you say of the audience, — do they 
improve them? 

Yes, they do. 

And the senators? 

Yes, the senators improve them. 

But perhaps the members of the assembly 
corrupt them : or do they too improve them ? 

They improve them. 

Then every Athenian improves and ele- 
vates them, all with the exception of myself; 
and I alone am their corruptor ? Is that what 
you affirm? 

That is what I stoutly affirm. 

I am very unfortunate, if you are right. 
But suppose I ask you a question : Would you 



38 Spologg' 

say that the same holds true in the case of 
horses ? Does one man do them harm, and 
all the world good ? Is not the exact opposite 
of this true? One man is able to do them 
good, or at least not many, — the trainer of 
horses, that is to say, does them good, and 
others who have to do with them rather in- 
jure them? Is not that true, Meletus, of 
horses, or any other animals? Yes, unmis- 
takably ; whether you and x^nytus say yes or 
no. Happy indeed would be the condition 
of youth if they had one corruptor only, and 
all the rest of the world were their improvers. 
And you, Meletus, have sufficiently shown that 
you never had a thought about the young : 
your carelessness is seen in your not caring 
about the matters spoken of in your own in- 
dictment. 

And now, Meletus, I must ask you another 
question : Which is better, to live among bad 
citizens or among good ones ? Answer, friend, 
I say ; for that is a question which may be 
easily answered. Do not the good do their 
neighbors good, and the bad do them evil ? 

Certainly. 

And is there any one who would rather be 
injured than benefited by those who live with 



apolagn. 39 

him? Answer, my good friend, the law re- 
quires you to answer. Does any one like to 
be injured ? 

Certainly not. 

And when you accuse me of corrupting 
the youth, do you allege that I corrupt them 
intentionally, or unintentionally? 

Intentionally, I say. 

But you have just admitted that the good 
do their neighbors good, and the evil do them 
evil. Now is that a truth which your supe- 
rior wisdom has recognized thus early in life, 
and am I at my age in such darkness and 
ignorance as not to know that if a man with 
whom I have to live is corrupted by me, I am 
very likely to be harmed by him ; and yet I 
corrupt him, and intentionally too, — that is 
what you are saying, and of that you will never 
persuade me or any other human being. But 
either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt 
them unintentionally ; and so on either view 
of the case you lie. If my offence is unin- 
tentional, the law has no cognizance of unin- 
tentional offences ; you ought to have taken 
me privately, and warned and admonished 
me ; for if I had been better advised, I should 
have left off doing what I only did unintention- 



40 apolagg. 

ally, — no doubt I should, — whereas you hated 
to converse with me or teach me, but you in- 
dicted me in this court, which is a place not 
of instruction, but of punishment. 

I have shown, Athenians, as I was saying, 
that Meletus has no care at all, great or small, 
about the matter. But still I should like to 
know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to cor- 
rupt the young. I suppose you mean, as I 
infer from your indictment, that I teach them 
not to acknowledge the gods which the state 
acknowledges, but some other new divinities 
or spiritual agencies in their stead. These are 
the lessons which corrupt the youth, as you 
say. 

Yes, that I say emphatically. 

Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we 
are speaking, tell me and the court, in some- 
what plainer terms, what you mean. For I do 
not as yet understand whether you affirm that 
I teach others to acknowledge some gods, and 
therefore do believe in gods, and am not an en- 
tire atheist, — this you do not lay to my charge, 
— but only that they are not the same gods 
which the city recognizes : the charge is that 
they are different gods. Or do you mean to 
say that I am an atheist simply, and a teacher 
of atheism ? 



I mean the latter, that you are a complete 
atheist. 

That is an extraordinary statement, Mele- 
tus. Why do you say that? Do you mean 
that I do not believe in the godhead of the 
sun or moon, which is the common creed of 
all men? 

I assure you, judges, that he does not be- 
lieve in them ; for he says that the sun is stone, 
and the moon earth. 

Friend Meletus, you think that you are ac- 
cusing Anaxagoras ; and you have but a bad 
opinion of the judges if you fancy them igno- 
rant to such a degree as not to know that these 
doctrines are found in the books of i\naxa- 
goras the Clazomenian, who is full of them. 
And these are the doctrines which the youth 
are said to learn of Socrates, when there are 
not unfrequently exhibitions of them at the 
theatre j (price of admission one drachma at 
the most) ; and they might cheaply purchase 
them, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to 
father such remarkable views. And so, Mele- 
tus, you really think that I do not believe in 
any god ? 

1 Probably in allusion to Aristophanes, who cari- 
catured, and to Euripides who borrowed, the notions 
of Anaxagoras, as well as to other dramatic poets. 



42 Ipolngg, 

I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely 
in none at all. 

You are a liar, Meletus, not believed even 
by yourself. For I cannot help thinking, O 
men of Athens ! that Meletus is reckless and 
impudent, and that he has written this indict- 
ment in a spirit of mere wantonness and 
youthful bravado. Has he not compounded 
a riddle, thinking to try me? He said to 
himself : I shall see whether the wise Socra- 
tes will discover my pleasant contradiction, or 
whether I shall be able to deceive him and 
the rest of them. For he certainly does ap- 
pear to me to contradict himself in the indict- 
ment as much as if he said that Socrates is 
guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet of 
believing in them, — but this surely is a piece 
of fun. 

I should like you, O men of Athens ! to 
join me in examining what I conceive to be 
his inconsistency ; and do you, Meletus, an- 
swer. And I must remind the audience that 
they are not to interrupt me if I speak in my 
accustomed manner. 

Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the ex- 
istence of human things, and not of human 
beings ? — I wish, men of Athens, that he would 



answer, and not be always trying to get up 
an interruption. — Did ever any man believe 
in horsemanship, and not in horses? or in 
flute-playing, and not in flute-players? No, 
my friend ; I will answer to you and to the 
court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. 
There is no man who ever did. But now 
please to answer the next question : Can a 
man believe in spiritual and divine agencies, 
and not in spirits or demigods ? 

He cannot. 

I am glad that I have extracted that answer, 
by the assistance of the court ; nevertheless 
you swear in the indictment that I teach and 
believe in divine or spiritual agencies (new or 
old, no matter for that) ; at any rate I be- 
lieve in spiritual agencies, as you say and 
swear in the affidavit. But if I believe in 
divine beings, I must believe in spirits or 
demigods. Is not that true? Yes, that is 
true, for I may assume that your silence gives 
assent to that. Now what are spirits or demi- 
gods ? Are they not either gocjs or the sons 
of gods ? Is that true ? 

Yes, that is true. 

But this is just the ingenious riddle of 
which I was speaking : the demigods or spirits 



44 S3polagrj. 

are gods, and you say first that I do not be- 
lieve in gods, and then again that I do believe 
in gods ; that is, if I believe in demigods. For 
if the demigods are the illegitimate sons of 
gods, whether by the nymphs or by any other 
mothers, as is thought, that, as all men will 
allow, necessarily implies the existence of their 
parents. You might as well affirm the exist- 
ence of mules, and deny that of horses and 
asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only 
have been intended by you as a trial of me. 
You have put this into the indictment because 
you had nothing real of which to accuse me. 
But no one who has a particle of understand- 
ing will ever be convinced by you that the 
same men can believe in divine and super- 
human things, and yet not believe that there 
are gods and demigods and heroes. 

I have said enough in answer to the charge 
of Meletus, — any elaborate defence is un- 
necessary. But, as I was saying before, I 
certainly have many enemies, and this is what 
will be my destruction if I am destroyed : of 
that I am certain : not Meletus, nor yet 
Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the 
world, which has been the death of many good 
men, and will probably be the death of many 



more : there is no danger of my being the last 
of them. 

Some one will say : And are you not 
ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which 
is likely to bring you to an untimely end ? To 
him I may fairly answer : There you are mis- 
taken : a man who is good for anything ought 
not to calculate the chance of living or dying ; 
he ought only to consider whether, in doing 
anything, he is doing right or wrong, — acting 
the part of a good man or of a bad. Whereas, 
according to your view, the heroes who fell 
at Troy were not good for much, and the son 
of Thetis above all, who altogether despised 
danger in comparison with disgrace ; and 
when his goddess mother said to him, in his 
eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged 
his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he 
would die himself. " Fate," as she said, " waits 
upon you next after Hector." He, hearing 
this, utterly despised danger and death, and 
instead of fearing them, feared rather to live 
in dishonor and not to avenge his friend. " Let 
me die next," he replies, " and be avenged of 
my enemy, rather than abide here by the 
beaked ships, a scorn and a burden of the 
earth." Had Achilles any thought of death 



46 ap0l0gg. 

and danger? For wherever a man's place is, 
whether the place which he has chosen or that 
in which he has been placed by a commander, 
there he ought to remain in the hour of danger ; 
he should not think of death or of anything 
but of disgrace. And this, O men of Athens, 
is a true saying. 

Strange indeed would be my conduct, 
O men of Athens, if I, who, when I was 
ordered by the generals whom you chose to 
command me at Potidaea and Amphipolis and 
Delium, remained where they placed me, like 
any other man, facing death, — if, I say, now, 
when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders 
me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of 
searching into myself and other men, I were 
to desert my post through fear of death or 
any other fear ; that would indeed be strange, 
and I might justly be arraigned in court for 
denying the existence of the gods, if I dis- 
obeyed the oracle because I was afraid of 
death : then I should be^ fancying that I was 
wise when I was not wise. For the fear of 
death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and 
not real wisdom, being a pretended knowledge 
of the unknown ; and no one knows whether 
death, which men in their fear apprehend to 



I 

be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest 

good. Is there not here conceit of knowl- 
edge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance ? 
And this is the point in which, as I think, I 
differ from others, and in which I might per- 
haps fancy myself wiser than men in general, 

— that whereas I know but little of the world 
below, I do not suppose that I know ; but I 

•* do know that injustice and disobedience to a 
better, whether God or man, is evil and dis- 
honorable, and I will never fear or avoid a 
possible good rather than a certain evil. And 
therefore, if you let me go now, and reject the 
counsels of Anytus, who said that if I were not 
put to death I ought not to have been prose- 
cuted, and that if I escape now your sons will 
all be utterly ruined by listening to my words, 

— if you say to me : Socrates, this time we 
will not mind Anytus, and will let you off; but 
upon one condition, that you are not to in- 
quire and speculate in this way any more, 
and that if you are caught doing this again 
you shall die, — if this was the condition on 
which you let me go, I should reply r Men 
of Athens, I honor and love you ; but I shall 
obey God rather than you, and while I have 
life and strength I shall never cease from the 



48 Spolocjg. 

practice and teaching of philosophy, exhort- 
ing any one whom I meet after my manner, 
and convincing him, saying : Oh, my friend, 
why do you, who are a citizen of the great and 
mighty and wise city of Athens, care so much 
about laying up the greatest amount of money 
and honor and reputation, and so little about 
wisdom and truth and the greatest improve- 
ment of the soul, which you never regard or 
heed at all? Are you not ashamed of this? 
And if the person with whom I am arguing 
says : Yes, but I do care, — I do not depart 
or let him go at once ; I interrogate and ex- 
amine and cross-examine him, and if I think 
that he has no virtue, but only says that he 
has, I reproach him with undervaluing the 
greater and overvaluing the less. And I say 
the same to every one whom I meet, young 
and old, citizen and alien, but especially to 
the citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. 
For know that this is the command of God, 
and I believe that to this day no greater good 
has ever happened in the state than my service 
to the God. For I do nothing but go about 
persuading you all, old and young alike, not 
to take thought for your persons or your pro- 
perties, but first and chiefly to care about the 



Spologg. 49 

greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you 
that virtue is not given by money, but that 
from virtue come money and every other good 
of man, public as well as private. This is my 
teaching, and if this is the doctrine which 
corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous 
indeed. But if any one says that this is not 
my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. 
Wherefore, O men of Athens, I say to you, 
Do as Anytus bids, or not as Anytus bids, and 
either acquit me or not ; but whatever you do, 
understand that I shall never alter my ways, 
not even if I have to die many times. 

Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear 
me : there was an agreement between us that 
you should hear me out. And I think that 
I what I am going to say will do you good ; for 
I have something more to say, at which you 
may be inclined to cry out ; but I beg that 
you will not. I would have you know that if 
you kill such an one as I am, you will injure 
yourselves more than you will injure me. 
Nothing will injure me, not Meletus, nor yet 
Anytus, — they cannot, for a bad man is not 
permitted to injure a better than himself. I 
do not deny that he may perhaps kill him, 
or drive him into exile, or deprive him of 



50 Spolojjg, 

civil rights : and he may imagine, and others 
may imagine, that he is doing him a great 
injury : but in that I do not agree with him ; 
for the evil of doing as Anytus is doing, — of 
unjustly taking away another man's life, — is 
greater far. And now, Athenians, I am not 
going to argue for my own sake, as you may 
think, but for yours, that you may not sin 
against the God, or lightly reject his boon by 
condemning me. For if you kill me you will 
not easily find another like me, who, if I may 
use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a 
sort of gadfly given to the state by the God ; 
and the state is like a great and noble steed 
who is tardy in his motions, owing to his very 
size, and requires to be stirred into life. I 
am that gadfly which God has given the state, 
and all day long and in all places am always 
fastening upon you, arousing and persuading 
and reproaching you. And as you will not 
easily find another like me, I would advise 
you to spare me. I dare say that you may 
feel irritated at being suddenly awakened 
when you are caught napping ; and you may 
think that if you were to strike me dead as 
Anytus advises, which you easily might, then 
you would sleep on for the remainder of your 



Spologg. 51 

%- 
lives, unless God in his care of you gave you 
another gadfly. And that I am given to you 
by God is proved by this : that if I had 
been like other men, I should not have ne- 
glected all my own concerns, or patiently seen 
the neglect of them during all these years, 
and have been doing yours, coming to you 
individually like a father or elder brother, ex- 
horting you to regard virtue, — such conduct, 
I say, would be unlike human nature. And 
had I gained anything, or if my exhortations 
had been paid, there would have been some 
sense in that ; but now, as you will perceive, 
not even the impudence of my accusers dares 
to say that I have ever exacted or sought pay 
of any one, — of that they have no witness. 
And I have a witness of the truth of what I 
say : my poverty is a sufficient witness. 

Some one may wonder why I go about in 
private giving advice and busying myself 
with the concerns of others, but do not ven- 
ture to come forward in public and advise the 
state. I will tell you why. You have often 
heard me speak in times past of an oracle or 
sign which comes to me, and is the divinity 
which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. 
This sign I have had ever since I was a child. 



5 2 apoloflg. 

The sign is a voice which comes to me and 
always forbids me to do something which I 
am going to do, but never commands me to 
do anything, and this is what stands in the 
way of my being a politician. And rightly, as 
I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, 
that if I had engaged in politics, I should 
have peiished long ago, and done no good 
either to you or to myself. And do not be 
offended at my telling you the truth ; for the 
truth is, that no man who goes to war with 
you or any other multitude, honestly strug- 
gling against the commission of unrighteous- 
ness and wrong in the state, will save his life : 
he who will really fight for the right, if he 
would live even for a little while, must have 
a private station, and not a public one. 

I can give you as proofs of what I say, not 
words only, but deeds, which you value far 
more. Let me tell you a passage of my own 
life which will prove to you that I should 
never have yielded to injustice from any fear 
of death, and that when I refused to yield I 
must have died. I will tell you a tale of the 
courts, not very interesting perhaps, but never- 
theless true. The only office of state which 
I ever held, O men of Athens, was that of 



senator. The tribe Antiochis, which is my 
tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the 
generals who had not taken up the bodies 
of the slain after the battle of Arginusae, 
and you proposed to try them in a body, 
which was illegal, as you all thought after- 
wards. But at the time I was the only one 
of the Prytanes who was opposed to the ille- 
gality, and I gave my vote against you ; and 
when the orators threatened to impeach and 
arrest me, and have me taken away, and you 
called and shouted, I made up my mind that 
I would run the risk, having law and justice 
with me, rather than take part in your injus- 
tice because I feared imprisonment and death. 
This happened in the days of the democracy. 
But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was in 
power, they sent for me and four others in- 
to the Rotunda, and bade us bring Leon the 
Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to 
execute him. That was a specimen of the 
sort of commands which they were always 
giving, with the view of implicating as many as 
possible in their crimes ; and then I showed, 
not in word only, but in deed, that — if I may 
be allowed to use such an expression — I cared 
not a straw for death, and that my sole fear 



54 &polojjgL 

was the fear of doing an unrighteous or un- 
holy thing. For the strong arm of that op- 
pressive power did not frighten me into doing 
wrong. And when we came out of the Rotun- 
da the other four went to Salamis and fetched 
Leon ; but I went quietly home. For which I 
might have lost my life, had not the power 
of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an 
end. And many will witness to my words. 

Now do you really imagine that I could 
have survived all these years if I had led a 
public life, supposing that, like a good man, I 
had always supported the right and had made 
justice, as I ought, the first thing? No in- 
deed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other. 
But I have been always the same in all my 
actions, public as well as private, and never 
have I yielded any base compliance to those 
who are slanderously termed my disciples, or 
to any other. For the truth is that I have no 
regular disciples ; but if any one likes to come 
and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, 
whether he be young or old, he may freely 
come. Nor do I converse with those who 
pay only, and not with those who do not pay ; 
but any one, whether he be rich or poor, may 
ask and answer me, and listen to my words ; 



3poIor$2- 55 

and whether he turns out to be a bad man or 
a good one, that cannot be justly laid to my 
charge, as I never taught, or professed to teach 
him anything. And if any one says that he 
has ever learned or heard anything from me 
in private which all the world has not heard, 
I should like you to know that he is speaking 
an untruth. 

But I shall be asked : Why do people de- 
light in continually conversing with you? I 
have told you already, Athenians, the whole 
truth about this : they like to hear the cross- 
examination of the pretenders to wisdom ; 
there is amusement in it. To converse with 
others is a duty which the God has imposed 
upon me, as I am assured by oracles, visions, 
and in every way in which the will of divine 
power was ever signified to any one. This is 
true, O Athenians, or if not true, would be 
soon refuted. For if I am really corrupting 
the youth, and have corrupted some of them 
already, those of them who have grown up 
and have become sensible that I gave them 
bad advice in the days of their youth should 
come forward as accusers and take their re- 
venge. And if they do not like to come them- 
selves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, 



56 apologg. 

or other kinsmen should say what evil their 
families suffered at my hands. Now is their 
time. Many of them I see in the court. 
There is Crito, who is of the same age and of 
the same deme with myself, and there is Crito- 
bulus, his son, whom I also see. Then again 
there is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father 
of ^Eschines, he is present ; and also there 
is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of 
Epigenes ; and there are the brothers of sev- 
eral who have associated with me. There is 
Nicostratus, the son of Theosdotides and the 
brother of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself 
is dead, and therefore he, at any rate, will not 
seek to stop him) ; and there is Paralus, the 
son of Demodocus, who had a brother The- 
ages ; and Adeimantus, the son of Ariston, 
whose brother Plato is present ; and yEanto- 
dorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, 
whom I also see. I might mention a great 
many others, any of whom Meletus should 
have produced as witnesses in the course of 
his speech ; and let him still produce them, 
if he has forgotten, — I will make way for him. 
And let him say if he has any testimony of 
the sort which he can produce. Nay, Atheni- 
ans, the very opposite is the truth. For all 



these are ready to witness on behalf of the 
corrupter, of the destroyer of their kindred, 
as Meletus and Anytus call me ; not the cor- 
rupted youth only, — there might have been a 
motive for that, — but their uncorrupted elder 
relatives. Why should they too support me 
with their testimony? Why, indeed, except 
for the sake of truth and justice, and because 
they know that I am speaking the truth, and 
that Meletus is lying? 

Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is 
nearly all the defence which I have to offer. 
Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be some 
one who is offended at me when he calls to 
mind how he himself on a similar, or even a 
less serious occasion, had prayed and entreated 
the judges with many tears, and how he pro- 
duced his children in court, which was a mov- 
ing spectacle, together with a host of relations 
and friends : whereas I, who am probably in 
danger of my life, will do none of these things. 
The contrast may occur to his mind, and he 
may be set against me and vote in anger be- 
cause he is displeased at me on this account. 
Now if there be such a person among you, — 
which I am far from affirming, — I may fairly 
reply to him : My friend, I am a man, and like 



5 3 &polog2- 

other men, a creature of flesh and blood, and 
not " of wood or stone/' as Homer says ; and 
I have a family, yes, and sons, O Athenians, 
three in number, one of whom is growing up, 
and the two others are still young ; and yet I 
will not bring any of them hither in order to 
petition you for an acquittal. And why not ? 
Not from any self-will or disregard of you. 
Whether I am or am not afraid of death is 
another question, of which I will not now 
speak. But my reason simply is, that I feel 
such conduct to be discreditable to myself and 
to you and to the whole state. One who has 
reached my years and who has a name for wis- 
dom, whether deserved or not, ought not to 
demean himself. At any rate the world has 
decided that Socrates is in some way superior 
to other men. And if those among you who 
are said to be superior in wisdom and courage, 
and any other virtue, demean themselves in this 
way, how shameful is their conduct ! I have 
seen men of reputation, when they have been 
condemned, behaving in the strangest manner : 
they seemed to fancy that they were going to 
suffer something dreadful if they died, and that 
they could be immortal if you only allowed them 
to live ; and I think that they were a dishonor 



apatogg- 59 

to the state, and that any stranger coming in 
would have said of them that the most eminent 
men of Athens, to whom the Athenians them- 
selves give honor and command, are no better 
than women. And I say that these things ought 
not to be done by those of us who are of rep- 
utation ; and if they are done, you ought not 
to permit them ; you ought rather to show that 
you are more inclined to condemn, not the 
man who is quiet, but the man who gets up a 
doleful scene, and makes the city ridiculous. 

But, setting aside the question of dishonor, 
there seems to be something unjust in petition- 
ing a judge, and thus procuring an acquittal in- 
stead of informing and convincing him. For 
his duty is, not to make a present of justice, 
but to give judgment ; and he has sworn that 
he will judge according to the laws, and not 
according to his own good pleasure ; and we 
ought not to encourage you, or you allow your- 
selves to be encouraged, in this habit of per- 
jury — there can be no piety in that. Do not 
then require me to do what I consider dishon- 
orable and impious and wrong, especially now, 
when I am being tried for impiety on the in- 
dictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, 
by force of persuasion and entreaty I could 



60 Spologg. 

overpower your oaths, then I should be teach- 
ing you to believe that there are no gods, and 
convict myself, in my own defence, of not be- 
lieving in them. But that is not the case : for 
I do believe that there are gods, and in a far 
higher sense than that in which any of my 
accusers believe in them. And to you and to 
God I commit my cause, to be determined by 
you as is best for you and me. 

[Socrates here concludes his defence, and, 
the votes being taken, he is declared guilty by 
a majority of voices. He thereupon resumes 
his address.] 

There are many reasons why I am not 
grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote of con- 
demnation. I expected it, and am only sur- 
prised that the votes are so nearly equal ; for 
I had thought that the majority against me 
would have been far larger ; but now, had 
three votes gone over to the other side, I 
should have been acquitted. And I may say, 
I think, that I have escaped Meletus. Nay, I 
may say more ; for without the assistance of 
Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a 
fifth part of the votes, as the law requires, in 



3p0lorjg. 6 1 

which case he would have incurred a fine of a 
thousand drachmae, as is evident. 

And so he proposes death as the penalty. 
And what shall I propose on my part, O men 
of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. 
And what is that which I ought to pay or to 
receive ? What shall be done to the man who 
has never had the wit to be idle during his 
whole life ; but has been careless of what the 
many care about — wealth, and family inter- 
ests, and military offices, and speaking in the 
assembly, and magistracies, and plots, and par- 
ties ? Reflecting that I was really too honest 
a man to follow in this way and live, I did not 
go where I could do no good to you or to my- 
self ; but where I could do the greatest good 
privately to every one of you, thither I went, 
and sought to persuade every man among you 
that he must look to himself, and seek virtue 
and wisdom before he looks to his private in- 
terests, and look to the state before he looks to 
the interests of the state ; and that this should 
be the order which he observes in all his ac- 
tions. What shall be done to such an one ? 
Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, 
if he has his reward ; and the good should be 
of a kind suitable to him. What would be a 



62 Sipalorjg. 

reward suitable to a poor man who is your 
benefactor, who desires leisure that he may 
instruct you ? There can be no more fitting 
reward than maintenance in the Prytaneum, 

men of Athens, a reward which he deserves 
far more than the citizen who has won the 
prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, 
whether the chariots were drawn by two horses 
or by many. For I am in want, and he has 
enough ; and he only gives you the appear- 
ance of happiness, and I give you the reality. 
And if I am to estimate the penalty fairly, 

1 should say that maintenance in the Pryta- 
neum is the just return. 

Perhaps you think that I am braving you in 
what I am saying now, as in what I said be- 
fore about the tears and prayers. But this is 
not the case. I speak rather because I am 
convinced that I never intentionally wronged 
any one, although I cannot convince you of 
that — for we have had a short conversation 
only ; but if there were a law in Athens, such 
as there is in other cities, that a capital cause 
should not be decided in one day, then I be- 
lieve that I should have convinced you ; but 
now the time is too short. I cannot in a mo- 
ment refute great slanders ; and , as I am con- 



vinced that I never wronged another, I will 
assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say 
of myself that I deserve any evil, or propose 
any penalty. Why should I ? Because I am 
afraid of the penalty of death, which Meletus 
proposes? When I do not know whether 
death is a good or an evil, why should I pro- 
pose a penalty which would certainly be an 
evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why 
should I live in prison, and be the slave of 
the magistrates of the year — of the Eleven ? 
Or shall the penalty be a fine, and impris- 
onment until the fine is paid? There is 
the same objection. I should have to lie in 
prison, for money I have none, and cannot 
.pay. And if I say exile (and this may pos- 
sibly be the penalty which you will affix), I 
must indeed be blinded by the love of life if 
I am so irrational as to expect that when you, 
who are my own citizens, cannot endure my 
discourses and words, and have found them so 
grievous and odious that you would fain have 
done with them, others are likely to endure 
me. No, indeed, men of Athens, that is not 
very likely. And what a life should I lead, at 
my age, wandering from city to city, living in 
ever-changing exile, and always being driven 



64 apologg. 

out ! For I am quite sure that into whatever 
place I go, as here so also there, the young 
men will come and listen to me; and if I 
drive them away, their elders will drive me 
out at their desire ; and if I let them come, 
their fathers and friends will drive me out for 
their sakes. 

Some one will say : Yes, Socrates, but can- 
not you hold your tongue, and then you may 
go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere 
with you ? Now I have great difficulty in mak- 
ing you understand my answer to this. For 
if I tell you that to do as you say would be a 
disobedience to the God, and therefore that I 
cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe 
that I am serious ; and if I say again that the 
greatest good of man is daily to converse about 
virtue and all that concerning which you hear 
me examining myself and others, and that the 
life which is unexamined is not worth living, 
you are still less likely to believe me. And yet 
what I say is indeed true, although a thing of 
which it is hard for me to persuade you. More- 
over I have not been accustomed to think that 
I deserve any punishment. Had I money I 
might have estimated the offence at what I 
was able to pay, and have been none the worse. 



apalcujg. 65 

But you see that I have none, and I can only 
ask you to proportion the fine to my means. 
However, I think that I could afford a mina, 
and therefore I propose that penalty. Plato, 
Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my friends 
here, bid me say thirty minae, and they will be 
the sureties. Well, then, say thirty minae, and 
let that be the penalty ; and for that sum they 
will be ample security to you. 

[The judges now proceeded to pass the 
sentence, and condemned Socrates to death ; 
whereupon he continued : — } 

Not much time will be gained, O Atheni- 
ans, in return for the evil name which you will 
get from the detractors of the city, who will say 
that you killed Socrates, a wise man ; for they 
will call me wise, even although I am not wise, 
when they want to reproach you. If you had 
waited a little while, your desire would have 
been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I 
am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, 
and not far from death. I am speaking now 
only to those of you who have condemned me 
to death. And I have another thing to say 
to them : You think that I was convicted 



66 ^pologg. 

because I had no words of the sort that would 
have procured my acquittal — I mean, if I had 
thought fit to leave nothing undone or unsaid. 
Not so ; the deficiency which led to my con- 
viction was not of words, — certainly not. But 
I had not the boldness or impudence or incli- 
nation to address you as you would have liked 
me to address you, weeping and wailing and 
lamenting, and saying and doing many things 
which you have been accustomed to hear from 
others, and which, as I maintain, are unworthy 
of me. I thought at the time that I ought not 
to do anything common or mean when in dan- 
ger ; nor do I now repent of the manner of 
my defence, and I would rather die having 
spoken after my manner, than speak in your 
manner and live. For neither in war nor yet 
at law ought I or any man to use every way of 
escaping death. Often in battle there can be 
no doubt that if a man will throw away his 
arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, 
he may escape death ; and in other dangers 
there are other ways of escaping death, if a 
man is willing to say and do anything. The 
difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, 
but in avoiding unrighteousness ; for that runs 
faster than death. I am old, and move slowly, 



SJpokrgg, 67 

and the slower runner has overtaken me, and 
my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster 
runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken 
them. And now I depart hence condemned 
by you to suffer the penalty of death ; and they 
too go their ways condemned by the truth to 
surfer the penalty of villany and wrong ; and 
I must abide by my award — let them abide 
by theirs. I suppose that these things may 
be regarded as fated, — and I think that they 
are well. 

And now, O men who have condemned me, 
I would fain prophesy to you ; for I am about 
to die, and that is the hour in which men are 
gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy 
to you who are my murderers, that immedi- 
ately after my death punishment far heavier 
than you have inflicted on me will surely await 
you. Me you have killed because you wanted 
to escape the accuser, and not to give an ac- 
count of your lives. But that will not be as 
you suppose ; far otherwise. For I say that 
there will be more accusers of you than there 
are now ; accusers whom hitherto I have re- 
strained : and as they are younger they will be 
more inconsiderate with you, and you will be 
more offended at them. If you think that by 



68 &pol0gg. 

killing men you can prevent some one from 
censuring your evil lives, you are mistaken : 
that is not a way of escape which is either pos- 
sible or honorable ; the easiest and the noblest 
way is not to be disabling others, but to be 
improving yourselves. This is the prophecy 
which I utter before my departure to the judges 
who have condemned me. 

Friends, who would have acquitted me, I 
would like also to talk with you about this thing 
which has happened, while the magistrates are 
busy, and before I go to the place at which I 
must die. Stay then awhile, for we may as 
well talk with one another while there is time. 
You are my friends, and I should like to show 
you the meaning of this event which has hap- 
pened to me. O my judges — for you I may 
truly call judges — I should like to tell you of 
a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the fa- 
miliar oracle within me has constantly been in 
the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if 
I was going to make a slip or error in any mat- 
ter : and now, as you see, there has come upon 
me that which may be thought, and is generally 
believed to be, the last and worst evil. But 
the oracle made no sign of opposition, either 
as I was leaving my house and going out in 



the morning, or when I was going up into this 
court, or while I was speaking, at anything 
which I was going to say ; and yet I have often 
been stopped in the middle of a speech. But 
now in nothing I either said or did touching 
this matter has the oracle opposed me. What 
do I take to be the explanation of this? I will 
tell you. I regard this as a great proof that 
what has happened to me is a good, and that 
those of us who think that death is an evil are 
in error. For the customary sign would surely 
have opposed me had I been going to evil, and 
not to good. 

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall 
see that there is great reason to hope that death 
is a good j for one of two things — either death 
is a state of nothingness and utter unconscious- 
ness, or, as men say, there is a change and mi- 
gration of the soul from this world to another. 
Now if you suppose that there is no conscious- 
ness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is 
undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death 
will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person 
were to select the night in which his sleep was 
undisturbed even by dreams, and were to com- 
pare with this the other days and nights of his 
life, and then were to tell us how many days 



70 &p0l0JJg. 

and nights he had passed in the course of his 
life better and more pleasantly than this one, 
I think that any man, I will not say a. private 
man, but even the great king will not find 
many such days or nights, when compared 
with the others. Now if death is like this, I 
say that to die is gain ; for eternity is then only 
a single night. But if death is the journey to 
another place, and there, as men say, all the 
dead are, what good, O my friends and judges, 
can be greater than this ? If indeed when the 
pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is de- 
livered from the professors of justice in this 
world, and finds the true judges who are said 
to give judgment there, Minos and Rhada- 
manthus and /Eacus and Triptolemus, and 
other sons of God who were righteous in their 
own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. 
What would not a man give if he might con- 
verse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod 
and Homer ? Nay, if this be true, let me die 
again and again. I myself, too, shall have a 
wonderful interest in there meeting and con- 
versing with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of 
Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have 
suffered death through an unjust judgment; 
and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, 



apologg. 71 

in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. 
Above all, I shall then be able to continue my 
search into true and false knowledge ; as in 
this world, so also in that ; and I shall find out 
who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and 
is not. What would not a man give, O judges, 
to be able to examine the leader of the great 
Trojan expedition ; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, 
or numberless others, men and women too ! 
What infinite delight would there be in con- 
versing with them and asking them questions ! 
In another world they do not put a man to 
death for asking questions ; assuredly not. 
For besides being happier in that world than 
in this, they will be immortal, if what is said 
is true. 

Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer 
about death, and know of a certainty, that no 
evil can happen to a good man, either in life 
or after death. He and his are not neglected 
by the gods : nor has my own approaching 
end happened by mere chance. But I see 
clearly that to die and be released was better 
for me ; and therefore the oracle gave no sign. 
For which reason, also, I am not angry with my 
condemners, or with my accusers ; they have 
done me no harm, although they did not mean 



72 Slpologg. 

to do me any good ; and for this I may gently 
blame them. 

Still I have a favor to ask of them. When 
my sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my 
friends, to punish them ; and I would have you 
trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they 
seem to care about riches, or anything, more 
than about virtue ; or if they pretend to be 
something when they are really nothing, — 
then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for 
not caring about that for which they ought to 
care, and thinking that they are something 
when they are really nothing. And if you do 
this, I and my sons will have received justice 
at your hands. 

The hour of departure has arrived, and we 
go our ways — I to die, and you to live. 
Which is better God only knows. 



Crito* 



PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE. 

Socrates. Crito. 

Scene : — The Prison of Socrates. 

SOCRATES. Why have you come at this 
hour, Crito? It must be quite early? 

Crito. Yes, certainly. 

Soc. What is the exact time ? 

Cr. The dawn is breaking. 

Soc. I wonder that the keeper of the prison 
would let you in. 

Cr. He knows me, because I often come, 
Socrates ; moreover, I have done him a kind- 
ness. 

Soc. And are you only just arrived? 

Cr. No, I came some time ago. 

Soc. Then why did you sit and say noth- 
ing, instead of at once awakening me ? 

Cr. By the gods, Socrates, I would rather 



74 (Ertt0. 

not myself have all this sleeplessness and sor- 
row. And I have been wondering at your 
peaceful slumbers, which was the reason why I 
did not awaken you, because I wanted you to 
be out of pain. I have always thought you of -a 
happy disposition ; but never did I see any- 
thing like the easy, tranquil manner in which 
you bear this calamity. 

Soc. Why, Crito, when a man has reached 
my age he ought not to be repining at the 
prospect of death. 

Cr. And yet other old men find them- 
selves in similar misfortunes, and age does 
not prevent them from repining. 

Soc. That may be. But you have not 
told me why you come at this early hour. 

Cr. I come to bring you a message which 
is sad and painful ; not, as I believe, to your- 
self, but to all of us who are your friends, and 
saddest of all to me. 

Soc. What ? Has the ship come from De- 
los, on the arrival of which I am to die ? 

Cr. No, the ship has not actually arrived, 
but she will probably be here to-day, as per- 
sons who have come from Sunium tell me that 
they left her there ; and therefore to-morrow, 
Socrates, will be the last day of your life. 



Crito. 75 

Soc. Very well, Crito } if such is the will of 
God, I am willing ; but my belief is that there 
will be a delay of a day. 

Cr. Why do you think so? 

Soc. I will tell you. I am to die on the 
day after the arrival of the ship ? 

Cr. Yes ; that is what the authorities say. 

Soc. But I do not think that the ship will 
be here until to-morrow ; this I infer from a 
vision which I had last night, or rather only 
just now, when you fortunately allowed me to 
sleep. 

Cr. And what was the nature of the vision ? 

Soc. There came to me the likeness of 
a woman, fair and comely, clothed in white 
t raiment, who called to me and said : " O Soc- 
rates, 

" ■ The third day hence to Phthia shalt thou go.' " 1 

Cr. What a singular dream, Socrates ! 

Soc. There can be no doubt about the 
meaning, Crito, I think. 

Cr. Yes ; the meaning is only too clear. 

But oh ! my beloved Socrates, let me entreat 

you once more to take my advice and escape. 

1 For if you die I shall not only lose a friend 

1 Homer, II. ix. 363. 



76 dTrito. 

who can never be replaced, but there is an- 
other evil : people who do not know you and 
me will believe that I might have saved you 
if I had been willing to give money, but that 
I did not care. Now, can there be a worse 
disgrace than this — that I should be thought 
to value money more than the life of a friend? 
For the many will not be persuaded that I 
wanted you to escape and that you refused. 

Soc. But why, my dear Crito, should we 
care about the opinion of the many? Good 
men, and they are the only persons who are 
worth considering, will think of these things 
truly as they occurred. 

Cr. But you see, Socrates, that the opinion 
of the many must be regarded, for what is 
now happening shows that they can do the 
greatest evil to any one who has lost their good 
opinion. 

Soc. I only wish, Crito, that they could ; 
for then they could also do the greatest good, 
and that would be well. But in reality they 
can do neither ; for they cannot either make a 
man wise or make him foolish ; and whatever 
they do is the result of chance. 

Cr. Well, I will not dispute with you ; but 
please to tell me, Socrates, whether you are not 



Cuto. 77 

acting out of regard to me and your other 
friends : are you not afraid that if you escape 
from prison we may get into trouble with the 
informers for having stolen you away, and 
lose either the whole or a great part of our 
property ; or that even a worse evil may hap- 
pen to us? Now, if this is your fear, be at 
ease ; for in order to save you, we ought 
surely to run this, or even a greater risk j be 
persuaded, then, and do as I say. 

Soc. Yes, Crito, that is one fe % ar which you 
mention, but by no means the only one. 

Cr. Fear not. There are persons who at 
no great cost are willing to -save you and 
bring you out of prison; and as for the in- 
formers, they are far from being exorbitant in 
their demands ; you may observe that a little 
money will satisfy them. My means, which 
are certainly ample, are at your sendee, and 
if you have a scruple about spending all mine, 
here are strangers who will give you the use 
of theirs ; and one of them, Simmias the The- 
ban, has brought a sum of money for this 
very purpose \ and Cebes and many others 
are willing to spend their money too. I say, 
therefore, do not on that account hesitate 
about making your escape, and do not say, as 



78 (Cute. 

you did in the court, that you will have a 
difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself 
if you escape. For men will love you in 
other places to which you may go, and not 
in Athens only ; there are friends of mine in 
Thessaly, if you like to go to them, who will 
value and protect you, and no Thessalian will 
give you any trouble. Nor can I think that 
you are justified, Socrates, in betraying your 
own life when you might be saved : this is 
playing into the hands of your enemies and 
destroyers ; and further, I should say that you 
were deserting your own children ; for you 
might bring them up and educate them, in- 
stead of which you go away and leave them ; 
and they will have to take their chance ; and 
if they do not meet with the usual fate of 
orphans, there will be small thanks to you. 
No man should bring children into the world 
who is unwilling to persevere to the end in 
their nurture and education. But you appear 
to be choosing the easier part, not the better 
and manlier, which would rather have become 
one who professes to care for virtue in all his 
actions, like yourself. And indeed, I am 
ashamed not only of you, but of us who are 
your friends, when I reflect that this affair of 



Crtto. 79 

yours will be attributed entirely to our want of 
courage. The trial need never have come on, 
or might have been managed differently ; and 
this last act, or crowning folly, will seem to 
have occurred through our neglect and cow- 
ardice, who might have saved you, if we had 
been good for anything, as you might have 
saved yourself, for there was no difficulty at 
all. See now, Socrates, how sad and dishon- 
orable are the consequences, both to us and 
you. Make up your mind then, or rather 
have your mind already made up, for the 
time of deliberation is over, and there is only 
one thing to be done, which must be done 
this very night, and if we delay at all will be 
no longer practicable or possible ; I beseech 
you therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, 
and do as I say. 

Soc. Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if 
a right one ; but if wrong, the greater the zeal 
the greater the danger • and therefore we 
ought to consider whether I shall or shall not 
do as you say. For I am and always have 
been one of those natures who must be guided 
by reason, whatever the reason may be which 
upon reflection appears to me to be the best ; 
and now that this fortune has come upon me, 



80 Crito. 

I cannot put away the conclusion at which 
I had arrived : the principles which I have 
hitherto honored and revered I still honor, 
and unless we can at once find other and 
better principles, I am certain not to agree 
with you ; no, not x even if the power of the 
multitude could inflict many more imprison- 
ments, confiscations, deaths, frightening us 
like children with hobgoblin terrors. But 
what will be the fairest way of considering 
the question? Shall I return to your old 
argument about the opinions of men? some 
of which are to be regarded, and others, as 
we were saying, are not to be regarded. Now 
were we right in maintaining this before I was 
condemned? And has the argument which 
was once good now proved to be talk for the 
sake of talking ; — in fact an amusement only, 
and altogether vanity? That is what I want 
to consider with your help, Crito ; — whether, 
under my present circumstances, the argu- 
ment appears to be in any way different or 
not ; and is to be allowed by me or disallowed. 
That argument, which, as I believe, is main- 
tained by many who assume to be authorities, 
was to the effect, as I was saying, that the 
opinions of some men are to be regarded, 
and of other men not to be regarded. Now 



ffirita, 81 

you, Crito, are a disinterested person who are 
not going to die to-morrow — at least, there 
is no human probability of this, and you are 
therefore not liable to be deceived by the cir- 
cumstances in which you are placed. Tell 
me then, whether I am right in saying that 
some opinions, and the opinions of some men 
only, are to be valued, and that other opinions, 
and the opinions of other men, are not to 
be valued. I ask you whether I was right in 
maintaining this ? 

Cr. Certainly. 

Soc. The good are to be regarded, and not 
the bad? 

Cr. Yes. 

Soc. And the opinions of the wise are good, 
and the opinions of the unwise are evil ? 

Cr. Certainly. 

Soc. And what was said about another 
matter? Was the disciple in gymnastics sup- 
posed to attend to the praise and blame and 
opinion of every man, or of one man only, — 
his physician or trainer, whoever that was? 

Cr. Of one man only. 

Soc. And he ought to fear the censure and 
welcome the praise of that one only, and not of 
the many? 

6 



82 (tnto. 

Cr. That is clear. 

Soc. And he ought to act and train, and eat 
and drink in the way which seems good to 
his single master who has understanding, rather 
than according to the opinions of all other men 
put together ? 

Cr. True. 

Soc. And if he disobeys and disregards 
the opinion and approval of the one, and 
regards the opinion of the many who have 
no understanding, will he not suffer evil? 

Cr. Certainly he will. 

Soc. And what will the evil be, whither 
tending and what affecting, in the disobedient 
person ? 

Cr. Clearly affecting the body : that is what 
is destroyed by the evil. 

Soc. Very good ; and is not this true, Crito, 
of other things which we need not separately 
enumerate ? In questions of just and unjust, 
fair and foul, good and evil, which are the 
subjects of our present consultation, ought 
we to follow the opinion of the many and to 
fear them ; or the opinion of the one man who 
has understanding? Ought we not to fear 
and reverence him more than all the rest of 
the world : and if we desert him shall we not 



Critc. 83 

destroy and injure that principle in us which 
may be assumed to be improved by justice 
and deteriorated by injustice ; there is such a 
principle ? 

Cr. Certainly there is, Socrates. 

Soc. Take a parallel instance : — if, acting 
under the advice of men who have no under- 
standing, we destroy that which is improved 
by health and is deteriorated by disease, would 
life be worth having? And that which has 
been destroyed is — the body ? 

Cr. Yes. 

Soc. Could we live, having an evil and cor- 
rupted body ? 

Cr. Certainly not. 

Soc. And will life be worth having, if that 
higher part of man be destroyed, which is 
improved by justice and deteriorated by injus- 
tice ? Do we suppose that principle, whatever 
it may be in man, which has to do with justice 
and injustice, to be inferior to the body? 

Cr. Certainly not. 

Soc. More honored, then? 

Cr. Far more honored. 

Soc. Then, my friend, we must not regard 
what the many say of i*s : but what he, the 
one man who has understanding of just and 



84 <&xito. 

unjust, will say, and what the truth will say. 
And therefore you begin in error when you 
advise that we should regard the opinion of 
the many about just and unjust, good and 
evil, honorable' and dishonorable. — " Well," 
some one will say, " but the many can kill 
us." 

Cr. Yes, Socrates, that will clearly be the 
answer. 

Soc. That is true ; but still I find with sur- 
prise that the old argument is, as I conceive, 
unshaken as ever. And I should like to know 
whether I may say the same of another pro- 
position — that not life, but a good life, is to 
be chiefly valued? 

Cr. Yes, that also remains. 

Soc. And a good life is equivalent to a just 
and honorable one — that holds also ? 

Cr. Yes, that holds. 

Soc. From these premisses I proceed to 
argue the question whether I ought or ought 
not to try and escape without the consent of 
the Athenians : and if I am clearly right in 
escaping, then I will make the attempt ; but 
if not, I will abstain. The other considera- 
tions which you meiftion, of money and the 
loss of character and the duty of educating 



trite. 85 

one's children axe, I fear, only the doctrines 
of the multitude, who would be as ready to 
call people to life, if they were able, as they 
are to put them to death — and with as little 
reason. But now, since the argument has 
thus far prevailed, the only question which 
remains to be considered is, whether we shall 
do rightly either in escaping or in suffering 
others to aid in our escape and paying them 
in money and thanks, or whether we shall not 
do rightly; and if the latter, then death or 
any other calamity which may ensue on my 
remaining here must not be allowed to enter 
into the calculation. 

Cr. I think that you are right, Socrates ; 
how then shall we proceed? 

Soc. Let us consider the matter together, 
and do you either refute me if you can, and 
I will be convinced ; or else cease, my dear 
friend, from repeating to me that I ought to 
escape against the wishes of the Athenians : 
for I am extremely desirous to be persuaded 
by you, but not against my own better judg- 
ment. And now please to consider my first 
position, and try how you can best answer 
me. 

Cr. I will. 



86 Grito. 

Soc. Are we to say that we are never inten- 
tionally to do wrong, or that in one way we 
ought and in another way we ought not to do 
wrong, or is doing wrong always evil and dis- 
honorable, as I was just now saying, and as has 
been already acknowledged by us ? Are all our 
former admissions which were made within a 
few days to be thrown away ? And have we, at 
our age, been earnestly discoursing with one 
another all our life long only to discover that 
we are no better than children? Or, in spite 
of the opinion of the many, and in spite of 
consequences whether better or worse, shall 
we insist on the truth of what was then said, 
that injustice is always an evil and dishonor 
to him who acts unjustly ? Shall we say so or 
not? 

Cr. Yes. 

Soc. Then we must do no wrong? 

Cr. Certainly not. 

Soc. Nor when injured injure in return, as 
the many imagine ; for we must injure no one 
at all? 

Cr. Clearly not. 

Soc. Again, Crito, may we do evil? 

Cr. Surely not, Socrates. 

Soc. And what of doing evil in return for 



ffirtto. 87 

evil, which is the morality of the many — is 
that just or not? 

Cr. Not just. 

Soc. For doing evil to another is the same 
as injuring him? 

Cr. Very true. 

Soc. Then we ought not to retaliate or 
render evil for evil to any one, whatever evil 
we may have suffered from him. But I would 
have you consider, Crito, whether you really 
mean what you are saying. For this opin- 
ion has never been held, and never will be 
held by any considerable number of persons ; 
and those who are agreed and those who 
are not agreed upon this point have no com- 
mon ground, and can only despise one an- 
other when they see how widely they differ. 
Tell me, then, whether you agree with and 
assent to my first principle, that neither injury 
nor retaliation nor warding off evil by evil is 
ever right. And shall that be the premiss of 
our argument? Or do you decline and dis- 
sent from this ? For thus I have ever thought, 
and still think ; but, if you are of another opin- 
ion, let me hear what you have to say. If, 
however, you remain of the same mind as 
formerly, I will proceed to the next step. 



88 Crtto. 

Cr. You may proceed, for I have not 
changed my mind. 

Soc. Then I will proceed to the next step, 
which may be put in the form of a question : 

— Ought a man to do what he admits to be 
right, or ought he to betray the right? 

Cr. He ought to do what he thinks right. 

Soc. But if this is true, what is the applica- 
tion? In leaving the prison against the will 
of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather 
do I not wrong those whom I ought least to 
wrong ? Do I not desert the principles which 
were acknowledged by us to be just — what 
do you say? 

Cr. I cannot tell, Socrates ; for I do not 
know. 

Soc. Then consider the matter in this way : 

— Imagine that I am about to play truant (you 
may call the proceeding by any name which 
you like), and the laws and the government 
come and interrogate me : " Tell us, Soc- 
rates," they say; " what are you about? are 
you going by an act of yours to overturn us — 
the laws, and the whole state, as far as in you 
lies ? Do you imagine that a state can subsist 
and not be overthrown, in which the decisions 
of law have no power, but are set aside and 



Crito. 89 

overthrown by individuals?" What will be 
our answer, Crito, to these and the like words ? 
Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will 
have a good deal to say on behalf of the law 
which requires a sentence to be carried out ; 
— he will argue that this law should not be set 
aside ; and we might reply, " Yes ; but the 
state has injured us and given an unjust sen- 
tence." Suppose I say that? 

Cr. Very good, Socrates. 

Soc. " And was that our agreement with 
you? " the law would reply ; " or were you to 
abide by the sentence of the state?" And 
if I were to express my astonishment at their 
words, the law would probably add : " An- 
swer, Socrates, instead of opening your eyes : 
you are in the habit of asking and answering 
questions. Tell us what complaint you have 
to make against us which justifies you in at- 
tempting to destroy us and the state ? In the 
first place did we not bring you into existence ? 
Your father married your mother by our aid 
and begat you. Say whether you have any 
objection to urge against those of us who regu- 
late marriage? " None, I should reply. " Or 
against those of us who after birth regulate the 
nurture and education of children, in which 



9° Cu'to. 

you also were trained? Were not the laws, 
which have the charge of education, right in 
commanding your father to train you in music 
and gymnastic?" Right, I should reply. 
" Well then, since you were brought into the 
world and nurtured and educated by us, can 
you deny in the first place that you are our 
child and slave, as your fathers were before 
you ? And if this is true you are not on equal 
terms with us ; nor can you think that you 
have a right to do to us what we are doing to 
you. Would you have any right to strike or 
revile or do any other evil to your father 
or your master, if you had one, because you 
have been struck or reviled by him, or re- 
ceived some other evil at his hands ? — you 
would not say this? And because we think 
right to destroy you, do you think that you 
have any right to destroy us in return, and 
your country as far as in you lies? Will 
you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that 
you are justified in this? Has a philoso- 
pher like you failed to discover that our 
country is more to be valued and higher and 
holier far than mother or father or any an- 
cestor, and more to be regarded in the eyes 
of the gods and of men of understanding? 



Crtto. 91 

also to be soothed, and gently and reverently 
entreated when angry, even more than a father, 
and if not persuaded, obeyed ? And when we 
are punished by her, whether with imprison- 
ment or stripes, the punishment is to be en- 
dured in silence • and if she leads us to wounds 
or death in battle, thither we follow as is right : 
neither may any one yield or retreat or leave 
his rank, but whether in battle or in a court 
of law, or in any other place, he must do 
what his city or his country order him ; or he 
must change their view of what is just : and if 
he may do no violence to his father or mother, 
much less may he do violence to his country.' ' 
What answer shall we make to this, Crito? 
Do the laws speak truly, or do they not ? 

Cr. I think that they do. 

Soc. Then the laws will say : " Consider, 
Socrates, if we are speaking truly that in your 
present attempt you are going to do us an in- 
jury. For, after having brought you into the 
w r orld, and nurtured and educated you, and 
given you and every other citizen a share in 
every good which we had to give, we further 
proclaim to every Athenian, that if he does not 
like us when he has come of age and has seen 
the ways of the city, and made our acquaint- 



92 Crita. 

ance, he may go where he pleases and take his 
goods with him ; and none of us laws will for- 
bid him or interfere with him. Any of you 
who does not like us and the city, and who 
wants to emigrate to a colony or to any other 
city, may go where he likes, and take his goods 
with him. But he who has experience of the 
manner in which we order justice and admin- 
ister the state, and still remains, has entered 
into an implied contract that he will do as we 
command him. And he who disobeys us, is r 
as we maintain, thrice wrong ; first, because in 
disobeying us, he is disobeying his parents ; 
secondly, because we are the authors of his 
education ; thirdly, because he has made an 
agreement with us that he will duly obey our 
commands ; and he neither obeys them nor 
convinces us that our commands are unjust ; 
and we do not rudely impose them, but give 
him the alternative of obeying or convincing 
us ; — that is what we offer, and he does 
neither. These are the sort of accusations to 
which, as we were saying, you, Socrates, will be 
exposed if you accomplish your intentions ; 
you, above all other Athenians." Suppose I 
ask, why is this ? they will justly retort upon me 
that I above all other men have acknowledged 



Crfta. 93 

the agreement. " There is clear proof," they 
will say, " Socrates, that we and the city were 
not displeasing to you. Of all Athenians you 
have been the most constant resident in the 
city, which, as you never leave, you may be 
supposed to love. For you never went out of 
the city either to see the games, except once 
when you went to the Isthmus, or to any other 
place unless when you were on military ser- 
vice ; nor did you travel as other men do. 
Nor had you any curiosity to know other states 
or their laws : your affections did not go be- 
yond us and our state ; we were your special 
favorites, and you acquiesced in our govern- 
ment of you \ and here in this city you begat 
your children, which is a proof of your satis- 
faction. Moreover you might, if you had liked, 
have fixed the penalty at banishment in the 
course of the trial — the state which refuses 
to let you go now would have let you go then. 
But you pretended that you preferred death to 
exile, and that you were not grieved at death. 
And now you have forgotten these fine senti- 
ments, and pay no respect to us the laws, of 
whom you are the destroyer ; and are doing 
what only a miserable slave would do, running 
away and turning your back upon the com- 



94 Cctio, 

pacts and agreements which you made as a 
citizen. And first of all answer this very ques- 
tion : Are we right in saying that you agreed 
to be governed according to us in deed and 
not in word only? Is that true, or not?" 
How shall we answer, Crito? Must we not 
assent ? 

Cr. There is no help, Socrates. 

Soc. Then will they not say : " You. Soc- 
rates, are breaking the covenants and agree- 
ments which you made with us at your leisure, 
not in any haste or under any compulsion or 
deception, but having had seventy years to 
think of them, during which time you were at 
liberty to leave the city, if we were not to your 
mind, or if our covenants appeared to you to 
be unfair. You had your choice, and might 
have gone either to Lacedsemon or Crete, 
which you often praise for their good govern- 
ment, or to some other Hellenic or foreign 
state. Whereas you, above all other Atheni- 
ans, seemed to be so fond of the state, or, in 
other words, of us her laws (for who would 
like a state that has no laws ?) , that you never 
stirred out of her; the halt, the blind, the 
maimed, were not more stationary in her than 
you were. And now you run away and for- 



€rit0. 95 

sake your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you 
will take our advice ; do not make yourself 
ridiculous by escaping out of the city. 

" For just consider, if you transgress and 
err in this sort of way, what good will you do 
either to yourself or to your friends? That 
your friends will be driven into exile and 
deprived of citizenship, or will lose their prop- 
erty, is tolerably certain ; and you yourself, if 
you fly to one of the neighboring cities, as, for 
example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are 
well-governed cities, will come to them as an 
enemy, Socrates, and their government will be 
against you, and all patriotic citizens will cast 
an evil eye upon you as a subverter of the 
laws, and you will confirm in the minds of the 
judges the justice of their own condemnation 
of you. For he who is a corrupter of the laws 
is more than likely to be a corrupter of the 
young and foolish portion of mankind. Will 
you then flee from well-ordered cities and vir- 
tuous men? And is existence worth having 
on these terms? Or will you go to them 
without shame and talk to them, Socrates? 
And what will you say to them? What you 
say here about virtue and justice and institu- 
tions and laws being the best things among 



96 Crito. 

men ? Would that be decent of you ? Surely 
not. But if you go away from well-governed 
states to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where 
there is great disorder and license, they will 
be charmed to have the tale of your escape 
from prison, set off with ludicrous particulars 
of the manner in which you were wrapped 
in a goatskin or some other disguise, and 
metamorphosed as the manner of runaways is 
— that is very likely ; but will there be no one 
to remind you that in your old age you were 
not ashamed to violate the most sacred laws 
from a miserable desire of a little more life ? 
Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good tem- 
per; but if they are out of temper you will 
hear many degrading things : you will live, but 
how? — as the flatterer of all men, and the ser- 
vant of all men ; and doing what ? — eating 
and drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad 
in order that you may get a dinner. And 
where will be your fine sentiments about jus- 
tice and virtue then? Say that you wish to 
live for the sake of your children, that you 
may bring them up and educate them — will 
you take them into Thessaly and deprive them 
of Athenian citizenship ? Is that the benefit 
which you would confer upon them ? Or are 



Crito. 97 

you under the impression that they will be 
better cared for and educated here if you are 
still alive, although absent from them ; for that 
your friends will take care of them ? Do you 
fancy that if you are an inhabitant of Thessaly 
they will take care of them, and if you are an 
inhabitant of the other world that they will not 
take care of them ? Nay ; but if they who call 
themselves friends are good for anything, they 
surely will. 

" Listen then, Socrates, to us who have 
brought you up. Think not of life and chil- 
dren first, and of justice afterwards, but of 
justice first, that you may be justified before 
the princes of the world below. For neither 
will you nor any that belong to you be hap- 
pier or holier or juster in this life, or happier 
in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you 
depart in innocence, a sufferer and not a doer 
of evil ; a victim not of the laws but of men. 
But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and 
injury for injury, breaking the covenants and 
agreements which you have made with us, 
and wronging those whom/.yefli ought fifet to 
wrong, that is to say, yourself, your friends, 
your country, and us, we shall be angry with 
you while you live, and our brethren, the laws 



98 CTrtto. 

in the world below, will receive you as an 
enemy; for they will know that you have 
done your best to destroy us. Listen, then, 
to us, and not to Crito." 

This is the voice which I seem to hear mur- 
muring in my ears, like the sound of the flute 
in the ears of the mystic ; that voice, I say, is 
humming in my ears, and prevents me from 
hearing any other. And I know that anything 
more which you may say will be vain. Yet 
speak, if you have anything to say. 

Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates. 

Soc. Leave me then to follow whitherso- 
ever God leads. 



H 154 6Z i/ 



University Press, Cambridge: John Wilson & Son. 






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